


Hold On

by Attenia



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, M/M, Panic Attacks, Romance, Self-Harm, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29083710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Legolas leads his first patrol, and it ends in disaster and death. Consumed by guilt, Legolas has to resort to drastic measures to survive. Weeks later, Aragorn tries to pick up the pieces. Trigger warnings for self-harm and panic attacks; don't like, don't read.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is inspired by Zeiphyx’s Red and White. Please note that this story contains self-harm and panic attacks. If these are not subjects you are interested in reading about, or if you think this might trigger you, please give this fic a skip :)

Legolas

“I’ll be fine, Ada.”  
“I don’t know, ion nin.” Thranduil cast a worried glance at the gates. “It’s dangerous out there. I wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”  
“It’ll be alright, Ada, I promise. I’ve been training for this for years. I’ve been on multiple patrols under more experienced leaders. I’m ready for this. Trust me. Let me prove myself to you.”  
Thranduil finally sighed and smiled at his son. “You are right, of course, Legolas. I cannot keep you in the safety of the palace forever. Go, lead your patrol, but don’t hesitate to call for backup if you need it. That’s something I tell all my warriors. “  
“I know, Ada.” Legolas was impatient to go, but he allowed his father to embrace him first, his eyes roving over the palace grounds. The patrol – Legolas’ patrol – was ready to go. Legolas had long felt ready to lead his own patrol. He wanted to do his part in keeping back the spiders, and he needed practice in leadership if he was to be any sort of king someday.   
Thranduil finally released him, and Legolas bounced across the lawn to where Hadrin, his second in command, was waiting for him. Legolas composed his face into what he hoped was a dignified expression. “Are we ready to leave?”  
“We are, hir nin. We await your word.”  
Legolas swung onto his horse. “Let’s go.”  
He led the patrol out of the palace gates, bursting with pride. This was what he was meant to be doing. He’d studied and practiced hard, and he was finally reaping the rewards.   
They headed toward northern Greenwood. The spiders held most of the south, and Thranduil wouldn’t let him go on one of the more dangerous patrols for his first time. No matter. Legolas would prove himself to his father.   
He grinned as he imagined writing to tell Estel about his first patrol. He was due in Imladris in six weeks, but Legolas would write anyway. He knew Estel would be proud of him for the progress he had made. Legolas sighed, wishing his lover was here now.  
Estel had duties in Imladris, just as Legolas had in Greenwood, which kept them apart all too often. Legolas missed him terribly, but he understood that for now, they would simply have to live with spending some time apart. He and Estel had discussed the problem, and hoped someday to move together between Greenwood and Imladris, once they managed to arrange their separate duties to allow it.   
Legolas forced his mind back to his surroundings. It would be no good to have to write to Estel and confess to him that he’d been knocked unconscious by a spider on his very first time leading a patrol.   
The first half of the patrol went smoothly, but toward the end, Legolas started to sense something to the west. It was faint, but he was sure he felt the creeping evil of spiders.   
Legolas glanced at Hadrin, who was much older and more experienced than he was. “Do you feel anything, Hadrin? From the west?”  
“I do, hir nin. Shall we head in that direction?”  
Legolas considered only for a moment. “Yes. Once we’re closer, we’ll try to get an estimation of how many spiders there are and decide whether we need to call for backup.”  
The unsettling feeling increased as they went west, but not enormously so. Legolas estimated that there were no more than four spiders.   
“Four?” he checked with Hadrin.  
“I would say so, hir nin.”  
“Good.” Legolas raised his voice, so that the rest of the patrol could hear him. “Draw weapons. We attack to the west!”  
The elves did as he said without question. Legolas led the charge, spying the first spider and shooting. The warriors surrounded him, trying to protect him, but Legolas urged them away.   
“Aeris, to your right! Fardal, go and support her.”  
They reluctantly left him and focused on the spiders instead of staying by his side. Legolas knew that their fears were well founded – Thranduil would have their heads if they let him get hurt – but he wasn’t going to get hurt. They had this.  
It was all over very quickly. The four spiders lay dead on the forest floor.   
“Is anyone hurt?” Legolas called.  
One by one, the warriors of Greenwood murmured that they were not. Legolas was practically vibrating with excitement. He’d just had his people take out four spiders on his first solo patrol! Estel and Thranduil would be so impressed with him. He couldn’t wait to tell them.   
He tried to keep the giddiness out of his voice, but he couldn’t hide a smile. “Let’s get back to our regular patrol, then.”  
Legolas was feeling much more confident now that he’d seen some real action and reacted accordingly. Despite what he’d told Thranduil, he’d had some lingering doubts about his ability to make judgement calls in the field, but those doubts were now dispelled. He could handle this.   
It was nearing the end of the patrol when Legolas sensed something more. He was sure it was spiders again; the wrongness had the same feel to it. This time, it was coming from the south.  
“We head south,” he called, turning his horse.   
Hadrin caught up with him, speaking quietly so that none of the following elves could hear. “Hir nin, we are supposed to patrol the northern regions only. We don’t have the numbers to take out a nest to the south.”  
“It’s not that far to the south,” Legolas argued. “We’re just taking a look. If there are too many of them, we’ll fall back and call for reinforcements.”  
“I do not think that is wise, Legolas. We should fall back now and tell one of the heavier patrols what we have sensed.”  
Legolas was annoyed to have his judgement questioned now, when he had just proven himself on his first patrol. “Your concern is noted, Hadrin, but we head south.”  
Hadrin looked like he had more to say on the matter, but he wisely remained silent.   
Legolas led them south, the feeling of wrongness growing the whole time. This was a larger nest of spiders, possibly larger than his patrol could take out. He would get closer to try to figure out how many there were, then take a report back to the palace.  
Hadrin’s shout was the only warning he had. “Legolas!”  
Too late, Legolas realized that the spiders were closer than he had estimated. He barely had time to duck as a web went shooting over his head.   
Suddenly, spiders surrounded them, at least two dozen.  
It was too many.  
Legolas had led his people to their deaths.   
All around him, the warriors of Greenwood shouted battle cries. Spiders were everywhere. Legolas whipped out his bow and started shooting, but it wasn’t enough. He heard a terribly cry and saw Fardal falling from his horse, blood pumping from a wound in his side.  
Legolas charged in between the spider and Fardal, bringing his knife up and severing one of its legs.  
He was too distracted to see another spider coming in from his left. One of its teeth ripped a long gash in Legolas’ left outer forearm, but he didn’t feel the pain. He fell from his horse, covering Fardal’s body with his own.   
Three spiders loomed above him. Legolas stabbed one of them with his knife, but the other two were still coming from him. He couldn’t dodge, because Fardal was below him, and if Legolas moved, Fardal would be dead.   
Hadrin cried out as he threw himself in front of Legolas. At his call, the other warriors rallied to him, surrounding Legolas and Fardal.  
Legolas tried to get past them, to fight the spiders himself, but they were too intent on protecting him to allow him through.   
One by one, they fell. Legolas screamed in frustration and managed to dodge past Hadrin, stabbing another spider in the belly.   
There were only three spiders left now, but just he and Hadrin remained standing. Legolas stabbed another spider, which knocked him off its feet as it fell. When he leapt up, the last spider had Hadrin impaled on its teeth.   
Legolas leapt onto its back and stabbed down through its head. The spider collapsed.   
“Hadrin!”  
Legolas fell to the side and pulled Hadrin off the spider’s teeth. He didn’t need to look long; it was all too obvious that Hadrin was dead.  
Legolas scrambled around, examining each and every one of his warriors. They were all ripped gruesomely apart in their efforts to protect Legolas, even though it was his orders that had brought this fate to them.   
Fardel, Aeris, and all the others… they were all dead. Not a single one had life in their eyes or a pulse in their veins.   
“No, no, no.” Legolas crouched on the ground, his head in his hands. How could things have gone so wrong? What had he done? They were all dead because of him!  
This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare.   
The stench of blood was starting to make him gag. Legolas could see light reflecting off the glassy eyes of the other elves, his friends, people who had relied on him to make the right decision… and he had failed them.  
This was no dream.   
This was his worst nightmare come to life.   
Legolas lost track of how long he stayed there on the forest floor, surrounded by death. Many of his warriors were nearly ripped in half, the violence shocking to behold. How was it that he only had a simple wound on his arm?  
They had been protecting him, that was how. And they had paid the price. It hadn’t been worth it. How could one life be worth so many?  
Legolas realized through his horror and grief that he couldn’t stay here forever. He would have to return to the palace. The thought made him sick. How would he ever confess what he had done to his father? He was as good as a murderer.   
He couldn’t go back… but he had to. Legolas would not shirk his duty, no matter what it may mean for him. He longed for Estel. The human would hug him and say something funny or comforting, it didn’t matter which.  
Estel could never find out what had happened here. Legolas knew he would lose Estel’s love in an instant if Estel ever found out how much blood Legolas had on his hands. The blood of innocent warriors who had died because of him, because he’d been too stupid and arrogant to listen to Hadrin’s advice.   
Legolas forced himself to get up. He couldn’t bury all of these bodies on his own. He would need to send a patrol here to collect them and bring them to their families. It was the least he could do, after he had practically murdered them.   
The walk back to the palace seemed to take an age, but Legolas never wanted it to end. He never wanted to confess to his father what he knew he had to.   
Just as he was trudging through the gates, a horse rode up to him. Thranduil was in battle armor and on his swiftest horse. When he saw Legolas, he dismounted at once and ran to him.  
“Legolas! Ion nin, what happened? You’re hours late. I was just coming to look for you. Legolas?”  
As he got closer, Thranduil saw the arm that Legolas was cradling. “You’re hurt! What happened?”  
Legolas found that he couldn’t look his father in the eye. He opened his mouth to confess, but no sound came out.  
“Never mind, we need to get you to the healers. Where is the rest of your patrol?” Thranduil put an arm around Legolas and started leading him toward the palace.  
Legolas forced the words out through numb lips. “They’re dead. Ada, it’s my fault, I –”  
“Hush, Legolas, do not even say that. It is my fault. I should not have sent you out there so soon. I let your eagerness get the better of me. I am the one to blame.”  
Legolas knew that wasn’t true. He had fooled everyone into believing he was a capable warrior, even himself. No more, though.  
“I –”  
Thranduil looked at him expectantly, but the words got stuck in Legolas’ throat. He had to confess what he had done, but with his father looking at him with so much love and concern, Legolas found he couldn’t bear to have his expression turn to disgust and anger.  
So, he was a coward on top of everything else.   
They reached the healing chambers. Legolas allowed Thranduil to usher him into a bed and called Yissa forward to look at his arm.   
Legolas refused herbs to dull the pain while the arm was being stitched. He deserved this pain and much more, both for his criminal blunder and his despicable cowardice. Even now, he tried to speak, to tell his father what had happened, but the words wouldn’t come.  
“Everything is going to be ok, Legolas. I’ll send riders to recover the bodies. Yissa will take care of you. It will all be fine. I just thank the Valar that you are alive.”  
The words burned Legolas like a brand pressed into his heart. He didn’t deserve to be alive. He should have been the first one to die, but as always, the warriors of Greenwood had put their duty before their own lives, protecting him until their deaths.   
“Legolas? Speak to me.”  
Legolas shook his head jerkily, too sick with guilt and self-hatred to speak.   
“It was not you fault, ion nin,” Thranduil repeated. His eyes seemed to see too much. Legolas felt a flicker of panic, sure that his father would be able to read his shameful deeds in his gaze, but Thranduil’s face displayed only love.  
Thranduil pulled Legolas into a gentle hug, being careful not to jostle his now stitched arm. Legolas remained stiff in his father’s grasp, waiting for it to end. He did not deserve comfort. Tears burned behind the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had already displayed enough weakness for one day.   
When Thranduil finally pulled back, Legolas reached down and pulled a blanket over himself.   
“I am tired, Ada. I think I would like to rest.”  
“Of course, Legolas. You just get your strength back. Don’t worry about anything; I will get it all sorted out.”  
He could not ‘sort out’ the lives of the warriors who had died because of Legolas, but Legolas didn’t point that out.   
He couldn’t tell his father what had happened, and Thranduil didn’t seem to expect him to. Legolas knew that if the truth ever came out, he would lose his father’s esteem, not to mention everyone else in Greenwood.   
It would never come out, though. Legolas resolved to keep his shameful secret in his heart. There were none left but he to tell the tale. He was a coward, yes, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his father and Estel looking on him with the disgust he deserved.   
Legolas lay in bed, staring at nothing as his guilt consumed him.   



	2. Chapter 2

Legolas

Legolas was let out of the healing ward the next day. He hurried through the halls, his eyes on the ground. He couldn’t bear to look into the eyes of elves who trusted him, not when he knew the truth. He was despicable. He was a murderer, a coward, a deceiver.   
A couple of the people he passed paused to express their relief that he was alive and not too badly hurt.  
It was all Legolas could do to nod at them. Their words hit him like a hammer to his stomach. He did not deserve their well wishes. Those should be going to the families of the dead. They should hate him, but they didn’t know any better, because he was too much of a coward to tell them.  
Legolas finally made it to his chambers, bolting the door behind him. He sank to the floor, his head in his hands, trying not to see the broken bodies of his patrol around him. He failed; they were all he could see, whether he kept his eyes open or shut.   
He couldn’t bear this. Legolas didn’t know how to keep going with grief and guilt weighing on his heart, feeling like a boulder in his chest, slowly crushing him.   
You don’t deserve to go on. You should have died.  
Legolas jumped, looking around. No one was here. Of course they weren’t. Yet he had been sure someone had spoken.   
The dead cannot speak, Legolas. Only you are left to speak for them, and you say nothing.   
It was him, he realized. The voice was coming from within his own head. Legolas clutched his head harder, as if he could squeeze the voice out. Logically, he knew that it was just his own thoughts about what had happened, but they felt foreign, like another person was speaking them.   
You’re mad, Legolas. A mad murderer. That’s why all of those men died. Because your crazy decision killed them.   
“Shut up,” Legolas mumbled, and immediately felt worse. He shouldn’t be talking to the voice of his guilt. He was talking to himself, and that’s what crazy people did. He was only proving the voice right.  
Perhaps you wanted them to die, Legolas. Is that why you led them to their sure deaths?  
Legolas wanted to justify his actions, but he refused to answer the voice. It was wrong. He was to blame for the deaths, but he had never wanted them to die.  
In the end, what does it matter? They are just as dead, and you are still breathing. How did it feel to look into your father’s eyes, Legolas? He looks at you and sees a lie, a pretend prince, covering up for a vicious murderer.   
“Shut up!” Legolas’ arm was pressed against his head as he gripped it, and he realized it was hurting from the pressure.   
He removed his arms from his head and used his grabbed his left arm with his right, just over the wound, focusing on the pain. Anything to distract him from the voice.   
You can’t get rid of me, Legolas, any more than you can get rid of what you have done. You know –   
Legolas squeezed the wound, hard. It drew a gasp of pain from him, but at the same time, the voice went silent. He squeezed until he could bear the pain no longer before cautiously letting go.  
The voice did not return. His arm throbbed and it looked like he might have torn one or two of the stitches, but it was a small price to pay. His head was mercifully quiet.   
He should go to the healers and confess his madness. Maybe they could help him. Legolas stayed where he was, though. He didn’t deserve the help. The voice of his guilt wouldn’t be present in his head but for his actions. If hearing his own innermost thoughts berate him as though another person was speaking to him was the price to pay for his folly, then he would pay it. He deserved nothing less.   
At least it was quiet, for now. Legolas didn’t know how long it would remain so, for he was sure the voice wasn’t gone for good.   
He forced himself to get up from the floor and staggered into bed. Legolas spent the rest of the day in bed, sending away servants who tried to bring him food. That evening, Thranduil came to him.   
“Legolas, I am worried about you. I understand that you need time to grieve, but you need to eat, ion nin.”  
Legolas had no desire for food, but he realized that if he was going to keep up his façade, he would have to stomach it, whether he wanted to or not. He would need to act like he was ok, even when he decidedly wasn’t. If he didn’t, Thranduil would no doubt investigate what happened in the woods further out of concern for him, and then he would know. The thought sent a spike of fear through Legolas. He couldn’t let that happen.   
“I am sorry, Ada. I believe my body is still healing, and I have not been hungry today. I will join you for breakfast tomorrow, though.”  
“Thank you, Legolas. I will send Yissa in to check on your wound.  
“No!”   
Thranduil frowned. “I know you don’t like people seeing you injured, but this is merely to check that there are no signs of infection. She has already seen the wound.”  
Legolas forced himself to moderate the volume of his voice. “Thank you, Ada, but it is not necessary. It is a simple gash. I have had many of them before. I will keep an eye on it, and if it looks like it needs attention, I will see Yissa. You have my word.”  
“Very well. Get some rest, Legolas.”  
He believes you. You’re a better liar than you are leader, that much is for sure.   
Legolas grabbed at his arm convulsively, squeezing tightly.   
I’m part of you, Legolas. You can’t get rid of me…  
The voice slowly faded into nothingness as Legolas gripped his arm. Blood was blooming on the white bandage. He would need to re-dress it. Legolas got his small bag of healing supplies out and spread a salve over the wound where the stitches were torn, wrapping it up with a clean bandage.   
He found that the blood didn’t bother him. It was strangely beautiful, the way it dripped down his pale arm. His arm still throbbed, but the pain wasn’t unpleasant. Legolas smiled slightly at a particularly hard throb. This was what he deserved – blood and pain. The weight on his heart felt a little lighter as his arm throbbed and the residue blood dripped off his fingers.   
Legolas couldn’t let there be any sign of blood, though, as that would surely give him away. He cleaned it up, leaving nothing but fresh white bandages.   
He was exhausted, having not slept the night before, and he knew that he couldn’t hide in his room again tomorrow. He would have to get back to normal life. He’d need to think of a good excuse as to why he couldn’t to on patrols anymore. Legolas knew what destruction he wreaked when the lives of others were in his hands.   
No, there was no question that he couldn’t ever patrol again. He would just get more good people killed.   
Legolas lay down in bed, glad that the voice was quiet once more. He fell asleep almost at once.   
He dreamed that he was back on that patrol, surrounded by dead spiders. The corpses of his patrol were scattered around the remains of the spiders. One by one, they started siting up, their dead eyes staring at Legolas.   
They pointed at him and chanted. “Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.”  
“No, please – I didn’t mean to – I swear!” Legolas backed away, but the dead followed him. He tripped over the body of a spider. Hadrin was suddenly atop him, his eyes wild. “You killed me! When all I ever did was try to protect you!”  
His hands fastened around Legolas’ throat.   
Legolas awoke with a cry, sitting bolt upright in bed. He was covered in cold sweat. His heart raced, and he couldn’t seem to slow his breathing.   
It was a dream, he told himself. Only a dream. There was no reason to panic. He was home. He was safe here.   
It is those around you who are not safe. Who will you kill next, hm, Legolas?  
He wasn’t safe from the voice.   
Legolas clutched at his arm, squeezing until the voice went away again. His breathing normalized as the pain ripped through him. It was comforting, in an odd sort of way.   
He lay back down, but was too afraid to fall back asleep. He tossed and turned until the dawn.   
The next morning, Legolas went down to breakfast with his father. Food held no interest for him, but he ate it anyway, because he knew he needed to keep up the act.   
“Legolas, are you well? You are very quiet.”  
“I am fine, Ada.”  
“Remember, Yissa said you’re not to draw a bow until your arm has healed.”  
His father knew him well. Legolas had just been thinking about going to the shooting range, but going against Yissa’s orders would surely lead Thranduil to insist he had his arm checked. “I know, Ada.”  
“What do you need, Legolas? I can see you are hurting, ion nin. How can I help?”  
Clearly, Legolas’ act wasn’t good enough. He needed to pull himself together. He was exhausted from lack of sleep, and barely able to hold himself upright under the weight of his grief and guilt. To make matters worse, he was jumpy, staring into dark corners, worried that the voice would reappear at any moment.   
“I think I need a break from patrols. After what happened… I just need some time.”  
Thranduil’s face softened. “Of course. I would never expect you to go back right away. Take as much time as you need.”  
He believes you without question. What would he say if he knew his son was a liar and murderer? Would he be so quick to trust you then?  
Legolas grabbed at his arm under the table.   
“Legolas?”  
He squeezed tightly for a few moments before removing his hand. “It is nothing, Ada. May I be excused?”  
“Of course.”  
Legolas had only eaten half the food on his plate, but Thranduil seemed satisfied, at least. Legolas went back to his chambers, trying to decide what to do. He wanted nothing more than to lie in bed. It was exhausting, forcing himself to work past the stone in his heart weighing him down, to keep up the carefully constructed lie.   
He couldn’t do that, though, not if he wanted his lie to be believed for much longer. Legolas couldn’t shoot, couldn’t patrol, and didn’t trust himself to help his father with kingdom paperwork as he often did. How much havoc could he wreak making decisions that affected hundreds of elves? Legolas shuddered to think how much more blood would be on his hands should he trust himself with such decisions.   
He wouldn’t be allowed to swim with his arm as it was. He could ride. Yes, that might work. His father would send a guard detail with him, of course. Legolas could get to a good tree and leave them to guard the base. He could go up into the branches and read, or maybe catch a nap.   
It was a good plan, but it seemed far too exhausting and intimidating right now. Perhaps he would simply read here at the palace.   
He couldn’t hide in his chambers again, though. Legolas picked up a book at random and went to one of his favorite benches in the palace grounds.   
He stared at the page, unable to focus. He needed the distraction badly, but the words slipped through his mind. In their place, he saw the scene in the forest. He saw his warriors being ripped apart.   
Your fault, all your fault. They were good people, and you destroyed them.  
Legolas grabbed his arm again, squeezing until the voice went silent. He stared at the book, willing himself to take the words in. Anything to get his mind off his memories.   
His mind didn’t cooperate. Maybe Legolas should practice sparring with his knives, but Hadrin was his usual sparring partner, and Hadrin was dead. Legolas was sure he could find another sparring partner, but he shied away from the idea. He wasn’t going to take valuable time away from good people just so that they could distract a villain from his own guilt.   
Besides, he was barely able to keep himself upright. How would he ever be able to spar? There it was again, his arrogance in believing he could do what he could not. If it wasn’t for that arrogance, his patrol would still be alive.   
Legolas couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear being alive when they were not, but there was no relief for him, nothing but an endless landscape of pain and grief. Tears threatened again, but he held them back. He was in a public place. He needed to convince everyone he was well, or all was lost.   
If someone investigated further, Legolas had no doubt that they could find the truth, from the trees, or from the tracks. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.   
He sat there for hours, staring at his book, turning a page every now and then for show, but in reality, he was drowning within his own mind.   
Just like your warriors drowned in their own blood.  
The book fell to the floor as Legolas reached for his arm, squeezing the voice away.   
Life fell into a dull, endless pattern. Each night, Legolas would sleep for a few hours before being woken by nightmares. He would lie in bed, too afraid to fall asleep again, mentally gathering himself for the next day. He would bathe, force down breakfast, then go to the gardens to pretend to read.  
The monotony was broken by lunch and dinner, and, of course, the voice. At first, Legolas thought he had it under control, but as the wound on his arm started to heal, it yielded less and less pain, which kept the voice gone for shorter and shorter amounts of time. Legolas cursed his fast elven healing.   
Two weeks passed, and the wound healed steadily, despite Legolas’ constant abuse. Every night, he fell into bed, exhausted both from lack of sleep and struggling to keep his head above water, fighting the stone in his heart pulling him down. Not to mention fighting the voice.   
Then came the day, two weeks since that fateful day in the woods, when the wound was fully healed, nothing more than a raised pink line. Legolas stared hopelessly at it as he got out of the bath. What was he going to do now? Squeezing it caused only the faintest hint of pain. Would it be enough?  
All marks of your treachery are fading, but you still know what you did, do you not, Legolas?  
Legolas squeezed his arm.   
Nothing happened.  
Can’t get rid of me now, Legolas. You cannot escape what you’ve done forever. It’ll always be there, just as I will.


	3. Chapter 3

Legolas

Legolas sat through breakfast, not hearing anything his father said.  
Who are you to deserve food, Legolas, when they cannot eat?  
Legolas’ stomach rebelled. The voice was right. How dare he eat, when the dead could not? Thranduil was watching him, though, so he forced himself to continue, even though it made him feel ill.  
The voice wouldn’t leave him alone. It berated him all through breakfast, and continued as he pretended to read.   
Legolas couldn’t stand it. It would drive him mad if it kept up much longer.  
You are already mad, Legolas. A murderer, a madman and a liar.  
“Shut up!”  
A couple of passing elves stopped to stare at him. Legolas muttered an apology and dashed to his room.   
That’s right, run away, like you run away from the consequences of your own actions. What would happen if they knew, hm?  
Legolas dug his fingers into his arm, but the voice was still there, laughing at him.   
He needed to get rid of the voice. It was all he could think of. Half-crazed, Legolas reached for his knife. If a wound was what made the voice go away, then a wound he would have.   
He pulled up his left sleeve and pulled the blade across his left inner forearm. Suddenly, a wild joy overtook him, and he slashed at his arm over and over again with abandon. He made six more quick cuts before he had time to stop and think about what he was doing.   
The voice went silent.  
Legolas nearly collapsed in relief. He looked down at his arm to see blood beading up from the cuts and slowly rolling down his arm. He realized he was laughing in pure happiness. He hadn’t felt this joyful since the last time he’d been with Estel.   
Legolas hurried to the bathroom, holding his arm over the basin so as not to get blood everywhere.   
The blood was beautiful, if in a slightly morbid way. Legolas stared in fascination at the cuts. They were light; he’d gotten worse scratches while climbing as a child. Still, they stung delightfully, and best of all, they kept the voice away.   
Legolas stared at his knife in a new light. He saw in it his salvation.   
He laughed aloud again, realizing as he did so that today was the first time he had laughed since that day in the woods. He felt suddenly light. What had happened to the weight on his heart? Legolas didn’t know, and right now, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he felt more like himself than he had in a long time.  
The cuts weren’t deep enough to require bandaging, so he simply waited for the bleeding to stop. He had been wearing long sleeved tunics anyway since that day, to cover up his still-healing spider wound.   
Some part of him was shocked by what he had done, but that part was overwhelmed by sweet relief. Legolas wasn’t entirely sure why he had done it, but he was glad he had.   
Legolas decided that he wanted to spar. He waited for the voice to start berating him, but it didn’t. Smiling slightly, he walked through the halls, looking for a likely candidate.  
“Liri, would you spar with me?”  
Liri bowed. “Of course, hir nin.”  
The two of them went out to the training grounds and got blunted practice knives. Legolas enjoyed the sparring immensely, even though he was out of practice. They practiced for hours, and Legolas left, if not happy, at least somewhat content.   
He still felt the guilt burning in his belly, but it was easier to ignore at the moment. Perhaps today was a turning point. Maybe things would be better from now on.   
It turned out that was a vain hope.   
That night, Legolas was woken as usual by a nightmare about what had happened on the patrol. The next day, he was just as exhausted as he usually was. The food was just as tasteless. The weight on his heart was still a little lighter, though, and best of all, the voice was still absent.  
Over the course of the day, as he tried to read, the weight on his heart swelled back to its normal size. Legolas wanted to cry in frustration. He had thought he’d found the solution to the hell that had become his life, but the effects of his cutting were wearing off fast.   
The next day, the voice came back. It had stayed away for three whole days, whereas before, when he clutched at his wounded arm, it had only banished the voice for a matter of hours. Legolas had been hoping that perhaps he had sent the voice away for good when he had cut.   
Apparently, the cutting had merely held it off for longer rather than banished it entirely.   
Look at you, Legolas, going on like nothing has happened. Have you even thought of the families of the elves you killed?  
That had Legolas staggering to a halt as he walked to his normal reading spot. He turned around and hurried to his chambers. He couldn’t face the families of the men he had murdered, but he could quiet the voice. He knew how.  
Legolas went into the bathroom and drew his knife. He hesitated, nervous. He knew that this wasn’t something he was supposed to be doing. Slashing up his own arms was not a sane thing to do, but he couldn’t bear to live with the voice and the weight on his heart. Now that he knew cutting lightened that weight, he was eager to have more carefree and happy moments.   
He needed to hold on and keep himself together. This was the only strategy Legolas had found so far to help him do that.   
Legolas dismissed his doubts and started cutting. He didn’t count the cuts this time, but there must be at least a dozen.   
By the time he was done, he was laughing again. This was brilliant. The blood was beautiful, the cuts stung wonderfully, and his heart was light and free. Best of all, the voice was silent. Legolas waited patiently for the bleeding to stop before pulling on another long sleeved tunic.   
Smiling, Legolas decided he would go for a ride. If he needed to cut every three days to keep the voice quiet, then that’s what he’d do.   
He didn’t last three days. This time, the voice came back in two days. If he was being honest with himself, Legolas was almost relieved. It meant he would get to cut a day early, which would help him escape from the morass of grief and guilt that held sway over his mind.   
For about a week, he managed to keep his cutting to every second day. After that, the voice started coming back after one day. Again, he wasn’t unhappy about it, since it was a solid reason to cut more often.   
Legolas was cutting on both arms now and he was running out of blank skin. At least he healed fast. He’d cursed his elven healing before, but now he was grateful for it.  
He spent most of his waking hours looking forward to when he would be able to cut again, and he sometimes even dreamed about it. Legolas was always grateful to have those dreams, as it meant he wasn’t having a nightmare about the patrol.   
He found himself looking for excuses to cut before the voice came back, but Legolas told himself that he wasn’t going to do it more than absolutely necessary. He was sure he’d had good reasons for such a resolution, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what they were.   
“Legolas, are you ok, ion nin?”  
Legolas looked up from his food. “I’m sorry, Ada, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”  
“I asked if you’re alright?”  
“Of course I am.” Legolas showed his father a wide grin. It wasn’t difficult. He just remembered the last time he had cut, and the smile came out genuine.  
“Have you started packing yet?”  
“Packing?”  
“For your trip to Imladris.”  
Curse the Valar. Legolas had been so caught up with cutting that he’d completely forgotten he was meant to see Estel. How could he forget? He loved Estel more than anything and missed him dearly.   
Worthless, useless lover.   
Legolas flinched. He was only due to cut tomorrow, but apparently, the voice was back tonight. He’d just cut tonight as well, then.   
“Legolas?”  
Legolas knew that he couldn’t see Estel now. As much as he missed the man, he knew that Estel would take one look at him and realize something was terribly wrong. Legolas wouldn’t be surprised if his lover could read his secrets right off his face, and he couldn’t have that.   
Even if Estel didn’t divine his secret right away, he would be able to see that Legolas was holding onto his sanity by a thread – holding on by a thin blade, he amended. He would find out about the cutting sooner or later, and he would insist that Legolas stop. The very thought was enough to make Legolas cringe.   
No, there was no way he could ever let Estel find out. What would Estel say when he realized Legolas would no longer take his shirt off around him? That would be too suspicious. Estel would know for sure that Legolas had some kind of injury if Legolas did that.   
There was no way he could visit Imladris right now. It was too risky.  
Thranduil was looking expectantly at him.  
“I don’t feel up to travelling right now, Ada. I will write to Este land tell him I’ll have to delay my visit.”  
Thranduil’s face fell. “You’re overdue to see Estel. I’m worried about you, ion nin. You have been acting strangely ever since… well, I think it would do you good to see him. Perhaps he can help you in a way that I can’t. Why don’t you ask him to come here instead? I am sure he will oblige.”  
Legolas clamped down on his panic at his father’s words and forced his voice to remain calm. “Estel has duties at Imladris, father. That is why I was to visit him. Do not worry over me. Everything is alright. I will go to Imladris when I can. I had better go and write that letter. I’ll send it with a messenger first thing in the morning. May I be excused?”  
“Of course, Legolas.”  
Legolas could feel Thranduil’s worried eyes on his back as he left. He hurried to his chambers, doing his best to ignore the voice.  
Who but a monster would cause such distress to those around them? You would be better off dead. You should have died that day. Would that you had, and that your warriors might have lived.   
Legolas slammed the door to his chambers shut and practically sprinted to the bathroom. He pulled his knife from his belt and pushed up his right sleeve. There were only faint pink marks left here from the cutting a few days ago.   
He cut quickly, sighing in relief as the stinging took hold and the blood started flowing. The voice faded into silence. Legolas cut until his the top half of his inner forearm was covered in close, shallow cuts. The bottom half was still healing. He’d divided his arms into four, to give each part enough time to heal in time for its next turn at being cut.   
Once the bleeding stopped, he rolled his sleeve down again and went to his desk. What could he tell Estel that the human would believe? Spiders. They had caused the problem; maybe they could get Legolas out of it. If he said that the spiders had been getting out of control recently, and that he was needed to help fight them back, surely Estel would understand that?  
It was a blatant lie, and Legolas tensed, waiting for the voice to berate him about it, but the voice remained quiet, chased away by the stinging in his arm.   
He wrote the letter and took it down to Yefer’s quarters. Yefer was used to ferrying messages back and forth from Imladris and Greenwood, mostly love letters between Estel and Legolas, so the request to take the letter to Estel didn’t raise any suspicions.   
Legolas realized guiltily that he’d never responded to Estel’s last letter. It had arrived just before the patrol, and he hadn’t had time to respond then. Afterward… well, afterward, he had been distracted.   
Legolas returned to his own rooms, but he didn’t sleep yet. Writing to Estel had brought up a whole host of problems that he hadn’t considered before.   
He could put Estel off for now, but eventually, Estel would insist on seeing him. What would Legolas do then? He wasn’t going to stop cutting – he needed it too much. It brought him too much joy. He wouldn’t give it up.  
That still left him with the question of what he would do when he next saw Estel. He could perhaps pretend illness for a while to get out of being intimate with Estel, but that wouldn’t last forever.   
And in truth, Legolas didn’t want to get out of seeing Estel or being intimate with him. He wanted both of those things nearly as much as he wanted cutting. Nearly.  
He needed to come up with a plan. Keeping his shirt on while they made love might work, but Estel was bound to be suspicious. What could Legolas tell him that wouldn’t result in Estel wrestling his shirt off to check for injuries?  
Legolas comforted himself that he likely had months to figure all this out. Estel would respect Legolas’ need to protect his home and stay away, at least for a while. They could exchange letters for now. When Estel finally insisted on seeing him, Legolas would need to have a plan ready, but for now, he had time.


	4. Chapter 4

Aragorn

Aragorn waited eagerly in the garden, wanting to be on hand when Legolas arrived, to see his lover that much sooner. It had been too long. He couldn’t wait to have Legolas in his arms again.  
Sure enough, a horse came trotting through the gates, and Aragorn recognized by the smooth way the rider dismounted that it was an elf. He leapt up and hurried forward, only to pull up short when he was close enough to see who it was.  
Disappointment filled his heart as Yefer walked toward him.   
“Hir nin. I have a letter for you from prince Legolas.”  
“Where is he? Why did he not come?”  
“He did not say, only that I was to give you his letter.”  
Aragorn held out his hand for the letter, his momentary joy at thinking Legolas had arrived deflating rapidly. “Thank you, Yefer. Why don’t you get some rest? You can take your usual quarters. Tomorrow, I will have a letter for you to take back to Legolas.”  
“Thank you. I will take my leave, then.”  
Aragorn slumped back onto the bench he had been waiting on and opened the letter.

Dearest Estel

I am so sorry to do this to you, but I am afraid I will not be able to make it to Imladris at this time. Things with the spiders have gotten serious, and every able-bodied fighter is needed. This is not a good time for you to visit, either, as we would barely see each other. I am patrolling too often to entertain guests.   
Once again, I am sorry. I will come when I can.

Love,  
Legolas

Aragorn frowned at the letter. He understood why Legolas couldn’t come here, but why did that mean Aragorn shouldn’t go to him in Greenwood? Legolas knew that Aragorn was as capable fighter. He could easily go on patrols with Legolas, possibly even patrols led by Legolas.   
Aragorn had yet to hear how Legolas’ solo patrol had gone, and was surprised his lover hadn’t mentioned it in the letter. It was all very confusing. More than that, there was something off in the letter. Aragorn couldn’t quite pin it down to one specific thing Legolas had said, but he sounded troubled.  
Perhaps Aragorn was just imagining that he could read that much from the tone of a single letter. Maybe he was simply projecting his own troubled feelings. His instinct told him to ride to Greenwood, but Aragorn knew he had to respect Legolas’ wishes. If Legolas was asking him not to visit now, he probably had a good reason.  
Legolas hadn’t even enquired as to how he was. Aragorn knew that he was probably very busy right now, but it still hurt that his lover didn’t seem to want to see him or hear about his life.   
Sadness swamped him. Aragorn folded the letter up and put it in his pocket. He kept all of Legolas’ letters, and this one would be no different.   
The twins found him several hours later, still on the same bench where only hours before, he’d been waiting hopefully for Legolas’ arrival.  
“Estel, there you – what’s wrong?” Elladan dropped onto the bench next to him.  
Elrohir sat down on his other side, grabbing Aragorn’s arm. “What has happened?”  
“Nothing. It’s just – Legolas can’t make it right now. He’s very busy at Greenwood. He says not to come to him, that he’ll let me know when he is able to make it here.”  
The twins both frowned. “That is unlike Legolas,” Elladan mused. “In the past, when things at Greenwood have been too crazy for him to get away, he has welcomed you coming to him instead.”  
“I know. I don’t understand it. I suppose there’s nothing I can do but wait for him, though.”  
Elrohir clapped Aragorn on the back. “Come on, tithen munidor, up with you. Write your response to Legolas, then you’re coming hunting with us.”  
“I don’t want to hunt,” Aragorn mumbled.  
“As if we would leave you to mope.” Elrohir shook his head, his eyes gleaming. “Who do you think we are, Estel?”  
“I’m not moping.”  
“Yes, you are, and we won’t have it.” Elladan yanked him to his feet. “Off with you. You have half an hour to respond to Legolas and meet us at the stables. After that, we’re coming to get you.”  
Aragorn knew that he didn’t want that. If he forced the twins to come and fetch him, they would undoubtedly come with a flock of peacocks and try to cram them all into his cupboard, or some similar torture.   
“Fine! I’ll meet you in half an hour, then. Now leave me alone.”  
Aragorn wasn’t really annoyed with the twins. They were right; he was feeling decidedly mopey. It would do him good to have a distraction.   
He sat down at his desk and wrote out his letter to Legolas.

Dearest Legolas

I’m sorry to hear things are going badly at Greenwood. Are you alright? How was your first solo patrol? Give thought to the idea of me joining you. I could help out with the patrols. I don’t care if you can’t entertain me properly. Just being in your presence is enough.   
The twins are driving me mad, as usual. Erestor finished that book he was writing. Glorfindel has made sure everyone in Imladris reads it; no one wants to get on his bad side. Ada has been training me in some more advanced healing techniques, and Glorfindel has stepped up my combat training. At least I don’t need to study with Erestor anymore! That was never my favorite thing to do, as you well know.   
The twins and I are going hunting soon. I think they want to distract me from missing you.  
What news from Greenwood, other than the spiders? Are you sure you are well? Please let me know about the possibility of my joining you there. I miss you, and I will take any excuse to see you.

Love,  
Aragorn 

Aragorn folded the letter and stopped by Yefer’s rooms to give it to him. He still had a few minutes before the twins’ deadline, so he walked quickly to his father’s office.   
Elrond stood when he entered. “Estel. I heard about Legolas. I am sorry, ion nin.”  
Aragorn nodded, his throat suddenly tight. Elrond clasped his shoulder. “You will see him soon enough. Elrohir tells me you are going hunting.”  
“Not like I had much choice in the matter,” Aragorn muttered.   
“I think it will be good for you. I will inform Glorfindel that you will be absent for a little while.”  
“Thanks, Ada. I’ll see you when I get back.”  
“Until then, Estel.”  
Aragorn made it to the stables with seconds to spare. Elladan and Elrohir were already waiting with three horses saddled up.   
“Let’s go, Estel. Don’t you worry, we’ll cheer you up. This is going to be a fun trip.” Elladan winked at him.  
Aragorn groaned. The twins’ idea of fun usually involved mud, snakes or feathers. He checked his horse carefully before mounting up, and sure enough, found the girth strap so loose that his saddle likely would have fallen off half way through the ride.  
“Nice try, El. I know you both too well.”  
“Oh, don’t worry, Estel, we will impress you yet.” Elrohir winked at him. Aragorn couldn’t help the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips. Two could play at this game. He wasn’t going to take the twins’ pranks lying down. 

***

When they got to Imladris two weeks later, Aragorn’s hair was bright pink. Elladan still had some goose feathers stuck to his arms and Elrohir was limping slightly from a snake bite. The snake Aragorn had lured into his bedroll hadn’t been venomous, but Elladan had still complained fiercely. Served him right for tossing Aragorn into the lake to wake him up.   
Elrond shook his head at the sight of his sons. “It seems I cannot leave the three of you alone together. I suppose I should count myself lucky that Legolas was not with you, at least.”  
Aragorn and Legolas made a good team. They seldom started prank wars with the twins, but they were good at finishing them.   
“Estel, you have a letter. It just arrived this morning.”  
Aragorn’s heart leapt. “From Legolas?”  
“I believe so. It was Yefer who delivered it, so I imagine it must be from Legolas.”  
Aragorn hurried to his chambers, finding the letter waiting on his desk. He tore it open, eager to hear how Legolas fared.  
The letter wasn’t from Legolas. It was from Thranduil.   
Aragorn’s spirits sank. He’d really been hoping to hear from Legolas. He frowned as he read Thranduil’s letter.

Estel

I need to request that you come to Greenwood. It’s Legolas. Something is off with him, but I can’t figure out what. He won’t talk to me. Ever since his first patrol, he’s been… I don’t even know. He won’t tell me what happened, but I do know that everyone other than him was killed.   
At first, I thought he was just grieving, which was to be expected, but he’s not getting better. Something is really wrong, and I don’t know what to do. Maybe he will open up to you, because he certainly isn’t telling me anything.  
I await your arrival at Greenwood.

Thranduil 

Aragorn stared at the letter long after he had finished reading it. So, he hadn’t been wrong in his estimation. Something was wrong with Legolas. Aragorn wasn’t surprised, if his whole patrol had been killed. Legolas was likely blaming himself, as he was wont to do whenever someone was hurt.  
Aragorn wanted his lover in his arms so badly he ached with it. Despite being weary from his travels with the twins, Aragorn shouldered his pack again and marched back down to the stables. The twins were still there, talking and joking with the stable staff.  
Elladan hailed him. “Estel! Where are you off to?”  
“Greenwood. Thranduil has requested my presence.”  
“Thranduil? Why?” Elrohir exchanged a confused look with his Elladan.  
“He says something is off with Legolas.”  
“Is he alright?”  
“What happened?”  
Aragorn knew that Legolas was one of the twins’ closest friends, and they would no doubt want to come with him to Greenwood, but he suspected that he’d have a better chance of getting Legolas to open up if he went alone.  
“Here.” He handed over the letter from Thranduil. The twins read it together, their eyes going wide in alarm.  
“Let’s go.” Elladan started re-saddling his horse.  
“No, El. It should be just me. You know how Legolas is about telling others of his troubles. If I’m going to get him to talk, it should be just me. He’s more likely to open up if it’s only the two of us.”  
Elladan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right. Go, then, Estel. But you must write to us as soon as you know anything.”  
“I will. Tell Ada and Glorfindel, won’t you?”  
“Of course.” Elrohir squeezed his shoulder. “You just focus on getting to Legolas.”  
“I intend to.”  
Aragorn took three horses so that he could rotate them and make good time. He knew it would be difficult to get Legolas to have a heart to heart while they were fighting for their lives against spiders, but he would find a way. His lover’s well being came before anything, and Aragorn knew it wasn’t good for Legolas to bottle up his feelings the way that he did.  
He ran his hand through his hair. If he washed it every night, it should be faded back to normal by the time he got to Greenwood. He knew Legolas wouldn’t care, but Aragorn cringed at the thought of answering Thranduil’s summons with bright pink hair.   
He spurred his horse into a gallop, wondering how fast he could get to Greenwood. Aragorn wouldn’t be getting much sleep in the near future, but that wasn’t what was important. He simply wanted to get to Legolas.


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas

Legolas was walking to his usual reading spot when he heard a horse coming into the courtyard. He didn’t think anything of it. It was probably just someone coming back from patrol.   
He kept walking, his head bowed. He hadn’t cut yet today, and he was feeling the lack. He needed to do it twice a day now, and he tried to save his first time for after lunch, or the afternoons were miserable. Doing it after lunch made the mornings miserable, though. He needed it in the evenings if he was to get enough peace from the voice to sleep. It was lasting for less and less time, both in raising his spirts and keeping the voice away, which worried Legolas.   
There was a commotion at the stables, which had Legolas turning. A number of people were gathering around the figure who had arrived. Legolas froze when he recognized who it was.  
Estel.  
Terror and elation roared through him in equal measure. Legolas didn’t know whether to flee or fling himself into Estel’s arms. The latter option won out. Legolas broke into a dead run, weariness forgotten.   
He leapt at Estel, wrapping his arms and legs around the human’s torso. Estel staggered back a step, grabbing onto Legolas to stop him from slipping down.   
Legolas gripped Estel tightly and buried his face in his lover’s neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.   
What he loves is a lie.  
Legolas flinched and clutched Estel tighter.  
“Meleth nin? What is wrong?”  
Legolas pressed his forehead harder against Estel’s neck. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. Estel knew.   
When he didn’t speak, Estel took Legolas’ hips and pulled him back, setting him on his feet. Legolas pushed his worry away and beamed at Estel.   
“It is good to see you, meleth nin.” He pressed a quick kiss to Estel’s lips.  
Estel was overcome with a helpless smile. “I have missed you, Legolas. But tell me, what is wrong?”  
“What makes you think something is wrong?”  
“Come on, I know you better than that. You look distressed. Tell me.”  
“I am fine, Estel.”  
Estel rolled his eyes, but to Legolas’ infinite relief, he didn’t press. “Shall we go to your chambers?”  
“Of course. How have you been, Estel?”  
They exchanged pleasantries as they walked. Legolas tried his best to hide his increasing anxiety. He hadn’t cut yet today, and he needed to. The voice was back, even if it was silent for the moment. It could return at any moment; only cutting would ensure that it stayed away for a bit.  
How could he cut with Estel here, though? What excuse could he make? Legolas would have to think of something, and fast.   
“Legolas? Meleth nin, I can see that you are stressed. Please, tell me what is it? Are you worried about the spiders?”  
Ah, Valar, Legolas had completely forgotten the lie he had told Estel. “Things have calmed down a lot with the spiders. I’m not needed on patrols anymore.”  
“That’s great!”   
They reached Legolas’ chambers and Estel grabbed him around the waist, pulling him onto the bed. Legolas squeaked in surprise, but didn’t protest. He grabbed the human around the waist and nestled into him.   
“I’ve missed you, meleth nin.”  
“Not more than I’ve missed you,” Estel teased.   
They lay there quietly for a while, breathing each other in. Perhaps it had been a mistake to keep Estel away. Legolas could already feel his spirits rising now that he was with his lover. The weight of guilt wasn’t completely lifted as it was when he cut, but this was at least an improvement.   
Look at you, lying there, content, while those who trusted you are dead. Would Estel still embrace you so tenderly if he knew how much blood you have on your hands?  
Legolas knew that he wouldn’t. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the voice to go away, but it didn’t.   
Your lie continues, as does your worthless life. How dare you think to breathe, to smile, when they are gone?  
Legolas bolted upright.   
“Meleth nin?”  
“I have a quick errand to run, Estel, then I will be all yours. Why don’t you take the time to clean up?”  
“I’d rather save that for when you get back. We can bathe together.”  
No, that couldn’t happen. “We should join my father for lunch, and we don’t want to be late. You go ahead and bathe. I will join you another time.”  
Estel shrugged. “If you’d prefer.”  
He suspected nothing. Legolas knew that wouldn’t last long.   
Legolas walked sedately out of the room, and once he was sure he was out of earshot, he broke into a run. The voice shouted at him, tearing him down with every word. Legolas couldn’t stand it. The voice was right about him, but he still couldn’t bear to hear the truths it uttered.   
He found an empty bathroom and locked himself inside. Legolas grabbed his knife and cut quickly at his arm, sighing in relief as the voice faded. He watched impatiently, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Estel would be waiting for him.   
He should have brought a bandage that he could use to put pressure on the wounds to make the bleeding stop faster, but he hadn’t been able to think with the voice ringing in his ears.   
It seemed to take forever, but Legolas knew that it didn’t actually take any longer than usual for the bleeding to halt. He washed up and pulled down his sleeve, feeling like he could properly enjoy Estel’s visit now that the weight on his heart was gone – at least for the moment.   
He returned to Estel in good spirits. His lover was freshly bathed, and pulled Legolas into an intimate embrace.   
“It has been too long, Legolas,” Estel murmured. Then he kissed the prince deeply. Legolas moaned and tilted his head back, loving the feel of his lover’s tongue against his. Estel thrust his hips forward into Legolas’, pushing their growing erections together.   
Legolas had missed this so much. He kissed Estel until he was dizzy with desire, grinding his hips up against the man’s to get some friction on his cock.  
Estel grabbed the hem of Legolas’ shirt and lifted it up.  
Reality came crashing back in. Legolas leapt back, stifling a yelp of alarm.  
“Legolas?”  
“We need to see my father for lunch. He will be unhappy if we are late.”  
Estel gestured down at the two of them. “You expect us to be able to walk like this?”  
Legolas winked at him. “Control yourself, Estel. Think non-sexy thoughts.”  
“I’d rather think about you.”  
Legolas longed to take Estel into his mouth to ease his lover’s tension. It was the kind of thing they would do before.   
This wasn’t before, though. Legolas couldn’t risk it. Estel might ask him to take off his clothes while Legolas pleasured him, and then what would Legolas do? No, it was safer to avoid the problem, as much as his aching cock protested.   
“Come, Estel, walk it off.”  
Legolas’ cock had already deflated at the thought of Estel finding out his secret, but Estel’s was still at full hardness. Estel grumbled, but acquiesced.   
Legolas fanned his face, wishing he could wear a short sleeved tunic. Unfortunately, Estel noticed.   
“Why are you dressed for winter, meleth nin? It’s the height of summer!”  
“I am cold,” Legolas lied, cursing the season.   
“You were always a terrible liar.”  
“And you never knew when to mind your own busines, you nosy human.” Legolas poked at Estel’s stomach, causing the man to giggle and twist away. Thankfully, he didn’t make any more comments on Legolas’ wardrobe.   
Thranduil was waiting for them in the dining hall. “Estel! Thank you for coming.” He clasped the human’s shoulder, looking positively relieved.   
Legolas looked between the two of them, confused.   
Thranduil turned to him. “I asked Estel to come, Legolas. I wish you would tell me what is wrong, ion nin, but if you will not speak to me, perhaps you will speak to him.”  
Legolas did his best not to grimace. So that’s why Estel was here. He had respected Legolas’ request to be left alone, but if Thranduil wrote to him saying he was worried for Legolas, no force in Middle Earth would keep Estel away.   
Legolas tried to enjoy the dinner with Estel, but he spent most of it worrying over how he was going to get away for his evening cutting. After that, he needed to figure out how he was going to put Estel off. Estel would no doubt want to be intimate tonight, so Legolas would need to think of an excuse to avoid that.   
His heart grew heavy at the thought. He wanted to welcome Estel into his body more than anything… but not at the expense of his secret. Estel could never know.   
When the finished dinner, Legolas got up first. “I will be right back, Estel. I just need to check on something.”  
This time, Legolas had the presence of mind to sneak some bandages from the healing ward before locking himself in one of the less used bathrooms. The voice mocked him for his deception.   
Twice a day was starting not to be enough anymore. The voice was coming back sooner and sooner between each cutting session. Legolas worried about it, wondering if he might get to a stage when cutting only kept the voice away for a few minutes.   
There had to be a way to lengthen the amount of time he spent without the voice. If he was slipping away twice a day or more, Estel was bound to realized quickly that something was up.   
What if he cut deeper? Would that keep the voice away for longer? It was worth a try.  
Legolas positioned the blade on his arm and drew it swiftly across, pressing harder than he usually did. A gasp of pain escaped him, and a thrill of fear ran through his body as he watched the skin gape wide.   
It was beautiful. He immediately wanted it again. Legolas made four more deeper cuts. They were still shallow in the scheme of things, not even penetrating down to the fat layer, but they were deeper than he usually did.   
Legolas found himself laughing, and realized as he did so that the high of cutting had worn off some without him even realizing it. He hadn’t felt this light or happy since the first couple of times he did it.  
He pressed a bandage firmly to his arm, filled with relief. He had found the secret. If the cutting started to wear off too soon, he could simply go deeper.   
Legolas didn’t have time to wait for the bleeding to stop completely, so he put a thick layer of bandages on his arm and pulled his sleeve down. Estel was waiting for him when he got back.  
“There you are, meleth nin. Where did you get off to?”  
“Just checking on something. Shall we go to bed?”  
Estel’s eyes gleamed with lust as he looked Legolas up and down appreciatively. “Though I have just eaten, I suddenly find that I am suddenly famished.”  
Legolas’ good mood vanished. He wanted to sit down and cry. He ached to be intimate with Estel, but he couldn’t risk it.   
“Legolas? What is it?”  
“I – nothing. I am simply tired. Can we just sleep, tonight.”  
“Of course.” Estel’s face weas set in concern. “Tell me what bothers you.”  
“Nothing. I am fine.”  
“We both know that is not true, Legolas. Why must you hide yourself from me?”  
Because you’d never allow me to keep hurting myself if you knew.   
“Please, Estel, can we just sleep?” Legolas felt on the edge of breaking down. Being with Estel but not being able to be close to him was torture.  
“Come here.”  
Estel climbed into bed and held out his arms. Legolas eagerly took the invitation, pressing his head against Estel’s neck, clutching his lover and breathing in the man’s scent to calm himself.   
“Whenever you are ready to talk, Legolas, I am here. You can tell me anything.”  
He couldn’t, not if he wanted to keep Estel’s love. Life wouldn’t be worth living without Estel. Legolas couldn’t lose him.   
Legolas bolted upright in the middle of the night as usual, panting and still seeing his dead patrol in his mind’s eye.  
“Legolas?” Estel rubbed his eyes and sat up. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing, Estel. Just a dream.”  
“About your patrol? Your father told me what happened.”  
Thranduil couldn’t have told Estel what had happened, because he didn’t know what had happened. Only Legolas knew that.   
He didn’t see the harm in telling Estel the truth about this. He was already sick to the bone of lying to his lover, and this wouldn’t reveal his secret. “Yes, it was about the patrol.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Legolas was already shaking his head. “No. Let’s just go back to sleep.”  
Estel pulled Legolas close. Legolas knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after this, but he would be content to enjoy being in Estel’s arms for the rest of the night. Tohis great surprise, he actually did drift off sometime around dawn, safe in his lover’s arms.   
The next few days were impossible. Legolas thought up all sorts of wild excuses for why he couldn’t be intimate with Estel, but Estel was no fool. He quickly saw the excuses for what they were. What he didn’t know was why Legolas was avoiding him.   
When he tried to bring it up, Legolas assured him it was not so, and made up yet another excuse. He hated himself for doing it, but what other choice did he have? He could tell that he was hurting Estel, which only deepened his self-loathing.   
Cutting was Legolas’ only solace. He had managed to pull back to every second day, which made it a lot easier. He could usually find a good reason to be separated from Estel for a bit every other day.   
On the downside, he was needing to go deeper and deeper every time to keep the voice away for the same amount of time. Being in near Estel helped with the weight on his heart, but the voice seemed immune to the man’s healing presence.   
Legolas was starting to get seriously worried about his arms. He was well into the fat layer by now, and having to cut over only half-healed cuts. He even tried cutting in other places, but nowhere else worked.   
If he kept going deeper, he would do permanent damage to himself. Legolas tried to cut back on the depth and cut more often instead, but that didn’t work anymore. It felt like it needed to be deeper and deeper each time to give him the same effect.   
Maybe… maybe he needed to stop. He wanted to be able to touch Estel again without fearing that at any moment the man might ask him to take off his clothes. He wanted to be able to go through a day without worrying about severing something vital in his arm. He loved cutting, but it was starting to cause more problems than he knew how to deal with.  
So, Legolas made the resolution to stop.   
He woke on his first cutting free morning in Estel’s arms. The voice woke with him.  
There he is, the pretend prince. You should have died. Your very presence causes Estel pain. You see the hurt in his eyes when you turn him away. What would he say if he knew his lover was mad?  
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, willing the voice to go away. He wouldn’t cut. He wouldn’t. He was breaking the habit, starting from today.   
Legolas lay tensely in bed, trying to banish the voice with force of will, but that had never worked. Estel finally stirred, looking sleepily up at Legolas. He did a double take at whatever he found on his lover’s face and quickly sat up.  
“What is it, Legolas?”  
“Talk to me,” Legolas said desperately. “Distract me.”  
“Distract you from what?”  
“Please, Estel – just – please.”  
Look at how stressed he is. You did that. How long before you kill him too?  
Legolas wanted to refute the voice, but how could he? Was the voice right? Was he destined to have the blood of more innocents on his hands?  
“So Erestor’s book,” Estel said quickly, “have I told you what it’s about.”  
Legolas shook his head. “Tell me.”  
He listened frantically to Estel, but the voice never went away. Legolas couldn’t ignore it for long. Estel saw the growing distress on his face and pulled Legolas into his arms.   
“You’re trembling,” he murmured. “Your breathing is way too fast. Just slow down, Legolas. Tell me what troubles you.”  
Legolas couldn’t think of a good excuse or denial, not with the voice whispering poison in his mind. “I can’t.”  
“Why not, meleth nin? Saes, you must let me help you. You trust me, do you not?”  
“With my life,” Legolas whispered.  
“Then talk to me.”  
Legolas shook his head, his eyes screwed up against the sound of the voice.   
He leapt up. “I’ll be right back, Estel.”  
“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”  
“Back soon,” Legolas gasped. He dashed out of the room.   
He sprinted to the nearest bathroom, fighting tears. So much for giving up cutting. The voice wouldn’t allow it.  
You deserve the pain, the blood. Why would you ever stop?  
Legolas slashed desperately at his arm, almost crying in relief when the voice was silenced. He cut deeper than he ever had before, leaving wounds that gaped almost half a centimeter apart. He realized too late that he hadn’t brought any bandages with him. Legolas cursed his lack of foresight.   
He could do nothing but clamp his hand over his arm and wait.  
It took nearly an hour for the bleeding to stop completely. Legolas knew the wounds should probably be stitched, but he’d never stitched a wound before and this seemed a bad time to try. He couldn’t risk getting an infection, or Estel would find out for sure.   
He snuck by the healing ward to get bandages and returned to the bathroom, bandaging the wounds as quickly as possible.  
He was just headed back to his chambers when he almost ran headlong into Estel.   
“Legolas! Meleth nin, what happened? I’ve been so worried – I was looking all over for you.”  
The adrenaline that the depth of the cuts had spurred was wearing off, leaving Legolas exhausted, but he was happy. The voice was gone and his heart was light once more. Maybe the depth of these cuts would keep it away for longer. He could only hope.  
“How about we have breakfast in bed, Estel?” He wasn’t sure he could make it to the dining hall.   
“I don’t care about breakfast, I care about you! Saes, you have to tell me what is wrong.”  
“I’m good, Estel, I promise you.” It was true. Right now, Legolas felt excellent, if exhausted. He didn’t care about being tired, though. As long as his head was quiet, the guilt wasn’t crushing his heart and he had Estel by his side, he was happy.


	6. Chapter 6

Aragorn

Aragorn was at his wit’s end. He knew that something was terribly wrong with Legolas, but Legolas still would not speak to him. He was hurt and upset that Legolas no longer seemed to want his touch, but that was hardly his biggest worry at the moment.  
Legolas was all eagerness when it came to cuddles, but whenever Aragorn tried to do anything more, he was turned away with increasingly flimsy excuses. He could only guess that it had something to do with what Legolas was hiding from him, but for the life of him, Aragorn couldn’t figure out what that was.   
Every night, Legolas was woken by nightmares, but he would never speak of them. He looked pale and exhausted all the time. He wasn’t eating well and was losing weight. Then there were those times when he would disappear from Aragorn’s side. He always came back in better spirits, but something about those times made Aragorn uneasy.   
Usually, Aragorn wouldn’t think anything of it. Legolas didn’t need to be with him day and night. Now, though, those instances made him nervous. With Legolas in such a fragile state, he would prefer not to be parted from his lover at all until he worked out what was going on.   
The times Legolas left were often preceded by him acting out of sorts – flinching at nothing or completely losing track of the conversation. Something was going on with him, but the more Aragorn pressed his lover to talk to him, the further Legolas seemed to withdraw.  
More than once, Aragorn had found him crouched on the floor, his head in his hands, his expression distraught. When that happened, he gathered Legolas into his arms and held him without making demands until the elf calmed.   
Aragorn wasn’t an idiot. He knew that this must be to do with the patrol that was killed. Legolas blamed himself, that much was clear. The guilt must be eating him up inside, but Aragorn didn’t know how to help him if Legolas wouldn’t talk about it. The prince practically fled from the room when Aragorn tried to bring it up.  
There was something more going on, though. Aragorn had to find out what it was. It hurt him to see Legolas in pain like this.   
“How about we go for a ride tomorrow, meleth nin?” They were nestled in bed together. Legolas was already close to drifting off. He fell asleep quickly, given how exhausted he was all the time, but Aragorn knew he spent hours awake after his nightmares. Aragorn had offered to sit up with him, but Legolas insisted that he didn’t want Aragorn to lose sleep over it.  
Legolas hesitated. “I am tired, Estel. Perhaps another time.”  
He seemed to have given up all of his usual pursuits – riding, hunting, swimming, shooting… as far as Aragorn could tell, none of these held any interest for Legolas anymore. They spent their days in the gardens, talking or walking among the flower beds. They never seemed to run out of things to say to each other, and the hours passed quickly.  
It wasn’t that Aragorn objected to the relaxed time with his lover – it was something he greatly prized – but he worried about why Legolas would give up all his hobbies. He tried to tell himself that the prince was just tired, but he thought it was more than that.   
“Just a short ride,” Aragorn coaxed. “We won’t go far from the palace.” He hoped that a change of scenery might help Legolas, maybe even get him to open up a little.   
“I… alright, Estel.”  
Aragorn kissed Legolas on the temple. “Thank you.”  
The next morning, he got up early, though not as early as Legolas. Legolas was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling when Aragorn woke. Aragorn kissed him and then hurried to the kitchens. He didn’t know if Legolas would consent to be out until lunch time, but if he did, Aragorn wanted to have food packed for a picnic.   
They had breakfast with Thranduil as usual, then set off. Legolas was jumpy, staring at every shadow. Aragorn suspected this was the first time he had left the palace grounds since his patrol had been killed.   
He tried to draw Legolas into conversation to distract him, but Legolas was too tense to talk much. As they rode through the peaceful woods, he seemed to relax a little, at least.   
Aragorn was just about to suggest they find a flet to have their picnic on when Legolas stiffened.  
“Spider,” he whispered, his face set. “Go, Estel, run. I will take care of this.”  
“How many spiders?”  
“Just the one, I think.”  
Aragorn looked from Legolas to their surroundings, confused. “We can take one easily. There is no need for me to flee.”  
“Please, Estel, just go –”  
Too late – the spider was upon them. Legolas didn’t draw his bow as Aragorn expected, but drew one of his knives, with his left hand. That in itself was odd. Legolas could fight with both hands, but he usually favored his right. Not today.  
The two of them charged the spider and made quick work of it. Aragorn got a small gash on his arm, but it was not serious. The bleeding had already stopped by the time the spider had finished shuddering in its death throes.   
Legolas was staring at the spot of blood on Aragorn with wild eyes. His gaze flicked between the man and the spider as he gasped for breath. At first, Aragorn thought he was just winded from the fight, but Legolas kept gasping like a fish out of water.  
“Legolas! What is wrong?”  
Aragorn quickly rode over to him and pulled the prince off his horse. Legolas’ legs collapsed and they both fell to the ground.   
Legolas clutched his head in his hands. “No… not true… please, leave me alone… no…” He gasped desperately for air between his mumblings. It was painful to watch.   
Aragorn quickly checked him for injuries, but found none. Legolas’ heartrate was sky high and his chest was contracting wildly as he desperately tried to pull air into his lungs. Aragorn tore his shirt open and examined his chest, feeling it rise and fall with one hand.   
He could find nothing wrong with Legolas physically, which left only one option. Why would have a panic attack over the killing of a single spider?  
That didn’t matter for now.   
“Legolas, look at me.” The elf’s wide, panicked eyes met Aragorn’s. “Breathe slowly. You can breathe, you’re just trying to go too fast. Match your breathing to mine, like this.” Aragorn took slow, exaggerated breaths. Legolas held his gaze desperately as he tried to mimic his lover.   
It took a while, but eventually, Legolas’ breathing evened out. Aragorn pulled him into a hug. “You’re ok now, meleth nin. Everything is alright.”  
Legolas clutched his shoulders for dear life. When they finally broke apart, Legolas wouldn’t meet Aragorn’s gaze.   
“You have to talk to me,” Aragorn told him firmly. “This has gone on long enough. You cannot pretend that nothing is wrong, meleth nin. It’s as clear as day. Legolas, what is going on with you?”  
Panic started to creep back into Legolas’ eyes. He could no longer deny that something was very wrong, and he knew it. Aragorn got ready to coach him through another panic attack, but what happened next was completely unexpected.   
Legolas pulled free of his grasp and fled.   
Growling under his breath, Aragorn pursued his lover through the trees, the horses forgotten, but Legolas was much faster than he was and fueled by some strange fear that Aragorn didn’t understand. Why was the prospect of being open with him so terrifying for Legolas?   
He soon could no longer hear the sounds of Legolas moving through the branches. He forced himself to stop. Running blindly through the forest wouldn’t help him find Legolas. Aragorn was a skilled tracker, and he was confident he could find his lover, but it would take time if he wanted to stick to the right trail.  
Time was a difficult concept to swallow when he was so desperate to get to Legolas immediately, but doing it wrong would only meat the whole endeavor would take even longer.   
Aragorn looked through the tree he was in for telltale signs of an elf passing in a hurry, but found none. He moved to the next easily available tree. Here, he found a few broken twigs indicating that Legolas had come through here.   
Aragorn worked his way slowly from tree to tree. He was well aware that he wouldn’t be catching up with Legolas until Legolas stopped moving, but he couldn’t run forever, could he? More to the point, why would he?  
Aragorn stiffened as he heard the sound of harsh breathing. Legolas had stopped sooner than Aragorn had estimated he would, given how panicked the elf had been when he started his flight.   
“Legolas? It is only me, meleth nin. I’m coming to you.”  
Legolas cursed under his breath and shuffled around, but didn’t flee again. Aragorn finally saw him and approached carefully, as he would with a skittish horse.   
“Come here, Legolas. Let’s get back to the palace.” He held out a hand. Legolas hesitated, then stretched his hand out to take Aragorn’s.   
There was a spot of blood blooming on his sleeve. Aragorn frowned. It was unusual for Legolas to injure himself while running through the trees, but he supposed it wasn’t surprising. This was hardly a typical day for Legolas.   
“You are injured. Let me see it.”  
It was the wrong thing to say. Legolas snatched back his arm, staring at it in horror, as though it had betrayed him. Aragorn saw in his eyes that he was going to run again.   
“Don’t –”  
Too late. Legolas dashed once more through the trees, with Aragorn hot on his heels.


	7. Chapter 7

Legolas

Legolas pushed his body as fast as he could, but he was slowing down. He had cut too deeply in his panicked state and he hadn’t had time to finish bandaging it properly before Estel came upon him. He was still losing blood, having simply drawn his sleeve down over the injury and bandage without wrapping the dressing around properly.   
He had been stupid to cut with Estel so close, but he couldn’t help it. The voice and the memories had been more brutal than they ever had been before, and Legolas had been unable to stand it.   
Now, he was in trouble. Estel would insist on seeing the injury to treat it. Legolas didn’t know what to do. His secrets were about to come crashing down around his ears.   
Legolas knew that he couldn’t run forever, but right now, it was the only thing he could think to do. If he could just gain some time to think and calm down, he would be able to face Estel and his questions, but Estel was of no mind to leave him alone right now, and the worst part was that Legolas could see his point.   
A slight hissing noise was all the warning Legolas got before the spider crashed into him. He had been so occupied with running from Estel that he hadn’t even kept his senses open to the presence of spiders.   
Legolas didn’t even have time to reach for his knife. He knew in this moment that he was about to die. Maybe it would be better this way. It was no more than he deserved, and at least he would finally be rid of the voice.  
Estel appeared out of nowhere, barreling into the spider and sending it sprawling. Legolas watched, horrified, as Estel battled the monster. He tried to draw his knife, but his right arm had already been too damaged to fight from his cutting yesterday, and he’d just put his left out of commission as well.   
Legolas watched, helpless, as Estel fought to defend him.  
The voice was gone, thanks to the blood now pouring from Legolas’ arm, but that didn’t stop the memories. The vision of Estel fighting the spider wavered, overlayed with the scene that had haunted his dreams for weeks now. Legolas saw the members of his patrol fighting and falling one by one.   
He doubled over, emptying what little there was in his stomach on the forest floor.   
Estel was suddenly there. Legolas realized that the spider was dead, and his lover’s arms were around him. As much as Legolas wanted to lean into the embrace, he couldn’t. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pulled away.  
“Legolas –”  
“We should get back to the palace. This area clearly isn’t safe.”  
“Not until I’ve seen to your arm.”  
Legolas gritted his teeth. “No.”  
He clamped a hand over his still-bleeding arm. “It will heal by itself.” He knew this from experience. Deeper cuts took longer to heal, but they always did eventually. Granted, he hadn’t gone quite as deep as this before, but he was sure it would still heal, given some time.  
“You need to be stitched, meleth nin. We don’t have time to argue about this. You are losing a lot of blood.”  
Estel started toward him.   
Legolas skittered back. “Stay away, Estel!”  
He didn’t blame his lover for his bemused expression. “Why would you flee from me, Legolas? I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”  
“Don’t touch me!” Legolas snarled. He knew he was being overly defensive, but fear of his secret being revealed had him acting irrationally.   
“I must.” Estel pounced. Legolas tried to twist away, but it was no use. He switched from defense to attack. He kneed Estel sharply in the belly. Estel let out a noise of surprise and pain, rolling aside. Legolas scrambled out from beneath him and ran a few steps backward.  
He knew better than to run by now. He was too weak from blood loss. But he had to keep Estel from seeing his arms at any cost.  
“Meleth nin? Why would you fight me? I don’t understand. I know you don’t like to admit injury, but you have never acted this way before.”  
“Don’t touch me,” Legolas repeated.  
“I am sorry, Legolas, but I must.”  
Estel launched himself at Legolas, tackling him to the ground. Legolas tried to land a foot or a fist on his lover, but Estel easily grappled him. He scratched and bit, but it was no good. Estel held him firm, even when Legolas’ nails raked down his back and the elf’s teeth sank into his hand.  
“Legolas!” Shock was apparent in Estel’s voice and face. “What is this?”  
Legolas wasn’t about to give up. He tried to roll, but he was very weak by now, and Estel was the heavier of the two of them.   
“I have to stitch your wound,” Estel said slowly and clearly, as if talking to someone deranged. “I do not know why you don’t want my touch, but I promise, once I have stopped the blood loss, I will not touch you if you don’t wish it. I cannot let you bleed to death before me.”  
Legolas screamed in frustration as he tried to buck Estel off, to no avail.  
“I am sorry, meleth nin.”  
Estel pulled Legolas’ sleeve up to reveal his left arm. He gasped at what he saw. Not just the most recent cuts, but older ones still healing were evident all over Legolas’ pale skin.  
“Legolas?”  
Legolas stopped struggling. What was the point? Estel knew, now. If anything, Estel seemed even more worried when he lay still and stiff beneath him than he had been when Legolas was fighting.   
The human pursed his lips and reached for the small healing pack he always kept on his belt.   
“Here, take these for the pain while I stitch.”  
Legolas clamped his lips shut and turned his head aside. Estel sighed, but didn’t press the matter. Legolas winced as Estel’s needle poked through his delicate flesh, but he didn’t try to escape. When the wound was finally stitched, Estel helped him sit up, then carefully moved away.  
Legolas felt a flash of guilt as he remembered screaming at Estel not to touch him.   
“You’ve been hurting yourself.”  
It wasn’t a question. Legolas found that he couldn’t look at Estel.   
“Talk to me, Legolas. This is because of what happened during the patrol, isn’t it? It wasn’t your fault, meleth nin.”  
“How would you know that?” Legolas snapped. “You weren’t there!”  
“Then tell me what happened. Saes, meleth nin, I am only trying to help you. I am not your enemy.”  
No, Legolas was his own worst enemy. He sighed. “I am sorry, Estel. I have acted foolishly. I never meant to push you away. I just…”  
“Panicked,” Estel finished. “You didn’t want me to know. Why not?”  
Words unsaid burned the back of Legolas’ throat, but he simply turned his head aside. He couldn’t tell Estel the truth, or he would lose the human’s love in an instant.   
“Can I touch you?”  
“Are you going to try to see my arms again?”  
“Not at the moment,” Estel told him gently. “I simply want to help you back to the horses. I’m not sure if you can walk on your own right now.”  
Legolas nodded dully, letting Estel put an arm around his waist. He leaned into his lover as Estel helped him trudge back the way they had came.  
“You went deeper than you intended this time.”  
Again, it wasn’t a question. Legolas shivered. He had never feared Estel before, but right now, the man saw too much, and it terrified him.   
“Please, Estel.” His voice came out in a broken whisper. “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m so tired…”  
“You’re tired because you’ve lost a lot of blood. You nearly killed yourself, meleth nin.”  
“I didn’t mean to. I swear, Estel.”  
“I know, but that doesn’t mean what you’ve been doing isn’t incredibly dangerous.”  
“How do you know what I’ve been doing?”  
“Ada has seen cases of self-injury before. He says it happens because of severe mental distress or turmoil.”  
“I’m not distressed! I’m fine!”  
Estel chuckled, seeing the blatant lie for what it was. “No, you’re not, and I was wrong ever to let you pretend that you are. It’s not helping you. Things are only getting worse, don’t think I don’t see it. You must have figured it out by now. You’re having to cut deeper and more often to get the same effect, aren’t you?”  
Legolas didn’t answer, refusing even to meet Estel’s gaze. Estel knew far too much.   
“Don’t worry. We’re going to sort this out. I’m going to write to Ada and –”  
“NO!” Legolas clutched Estel’s arm, bringing them to a halt. “Estel, you can’t tell anyone!”  
“But if I am to help you –”  
“Please, Estel. This is the only thing I ask of you: keep my secret. Don’t tell anyone.”  
Estel hesitated. “I want to help you. I fear I do not know enough. Ada –”  
“Elrond can’t help me! No one can!” No one could erase the past, or Legolas’ guilt.   
“I am determined to try, nevertheless. If I am to help you alone, you must be honest with me.”  
Legolas nodded, scarcely aware of what he was agreeing to. He just wanted Estel’s word that he wouldn’t tell anyone.  
Estel sighed heavily. “Alright, Legolas. I will keep your secret and try to help you alone, for now.”  
The ‘for now’ part was problematic, but it was a problem for another day. Legolas was simply relieved that he had secured Estel’s promise, even if it did come with a time limit.   
When Estel realized that Legolas couldn’t be fixed, he would no doubt write to Elrond, but Legolas would need to deal with that when it happened.  
They reached the horses, who were grazing as though nothing had happened. The two of them mounted up. Estel rode close to Legolas, clearly worried that he might fall. Legolas didn’t try to deter him, since Estel may well be right.   
“Talk to me,” Estel urged again. “You promised to be honest with me.”  
Valar, he had promised that, hadn’t he? Where did he even begin? Legolas looked hopelessly at his friend, despairing. He would lose Estel’s love, now. Would Estel even bother to keep his secret when he realized that the elf he loved was a murderer?  
“I…”  
“Ok, how about I start. Why have you been cutting yourself, meleth nin? Can you explain it to me?”  
Legolas opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He choked slightly and swallowed a few times. He tried again, but still, the words weren’t there.  
“I… I can’t, Estel. I am sorry.”  
Estel nodded. “I can see you are trying. I do not hold it against you.”  
He should. Estel was holding up his side of the bargain, and Legolas was unable to follow through on his. Estel didn’t threaten to spill Legolas’ secret unless Legolas make good on his word, which just made him feel worse.   
Yet another thing to feel guilty over. When the voice came back, it would never let him hear the end of this.   
When they returned to the palace, they were quickly surrounded by guards, demanding to know what had happened. Estel brushed them off. “An encounter with a spider. We are fine.”  
Not only was he a liar, but Legolas had made Estel a liar too. Would the harm he brought to those around him never end?  
Estel ushered him to his chambers before they could received too many looks. Legolas collapsed into bed, beyond relieved to home. Estel crawled into bed with him, pulling Legolas so that his back was against the man’s chest.  
“Talk to me,” Estel murmured in his ear. “You can tell me anything.”  
It was so tempting just to give in and tell Estel everything. He was so safe and warm here. In Estel’s arms, Legolas could almost believe that he would be ok. Maybe Estel would forgive him for what he’d done.  
Again, Legolas tried, but the words simply wouldn’t come out.   
“I don’t want to talk,” Legolas managed stiffly.  
“I know, but you must. It is the only way for you to get better.”  
“I can’t get better.”  
“You haven’t even tried to let me help you yet. Just try.”  
“I can’t, Estel. Every time I try, the words just won’t come out. I tried with my father too. It’s… I can’t.”  
“Have you tried writing it down? Or even drawing it out?”  
Legolas cringed at the idea of his crimes being recorded on paper. “No.”  
“I will think of something,” Estel promised. Legolas knew that there was no help for him, but telling Estel that wasn’t going to dissuade him. “Now, show me your arm again. I saw some healing cuts that probably should have been stitched, which I want to check on.”  
Just like that, the safe, warm feeling vanished. Legolas clutched his arms to his chest. “No.”  
“Legolas, I have already seen your arms, remember? Well, one of them, at least, and I imagine the other is about the same.”  
“No,” Legolas repeated.   
“You are not making it very easy for me to help you, Legolas.”  
“I’m sorry, Estel. You never should have come here. Perhaps it would be best if you returned to Imladris.”  
Estel’s arms tightened around him. “Not a chance, meleth nin.”  
In truth, Legolas was relieved that Estel chose to stay. He was undoubtedly better off with Estel in his life. If only he had been able to keep his secret. It was too late to take back Estel’s knowledge, but Legolas resolved never to speak of it again, and hoped that Estel would take cues from him.  
“This is why you’ve rejected my touch, isn’t it? You were afraid of me seeing.”  
Legolas nodded. “I am sorry, Estel. I have not been fair to you.”  
Estel kissed his neck. “It’s not your fault. You are hurting. I would never hold your actions against you. I will never judge you, no matter what your arms look like, and I will always love you just the same.’  
The back of Legolas’ throat was too tight to speak, so he merely nodded.   
“I know you cannot talk to me yet. We’re going to work on that. For now, I want you to show me your arms after you cut, so that I can treat the wounds.”  
Legolas turned around so that he was facing Estel. “You’re going to let me keep on doing it?”  
“If it was within my power to stop you, I probably would,” Estel admitted. “However, I don’t have that kind of control over you, nor would I want to. It is your life, and I know you are only trying to help yourself. I may not be able to see how cutting helps you, but it must be, or you wouldn’t do it.”  
Legolas had underestimated his lover. Estel’s understanding was like a balm to his ravaged soul.   
“It does help,” Legolas admitted. “I couldn’t hold on without it.”  
Estel nodded sadly. “I know. I hope that someday, you will be able to tell me why.”  
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.”  
Estel chuckled. “What about showing me after you cut? Do you think you can do that?”  
“Can’t we just go back to the way things were before? Please, Estel, let’s just pretend like today never happened.”  
“I can’t do that. We can’t keep living in the past. We must move forward.”  
More forward. Legolas supposed that was his problem. There was no moving forward from what he had done.   
“I… I don’t think I can, Estel. It’s – it’s something I keep private. It’s only for me. I don’t want anyone else seeing, even you.”  
To his surprise, Estel didn’t protest. “Just keep it in mind. If you have to do it, I would rather be with you when you do, so that I can ensure you aren’t too badly hurt. I know you’re not there, yet, but maybe one day, you will be.”  
Legolas highly doubted that. The thought of someone seeing him cut made him cringe. He didn’t want anyone seeing him at his weakest, least of all Estel. Legolas knew how it would wound his lover to see him hurt himself.   
“You give me much, Estel, yet take very little in return. I wish I could be better for you.”  
“You are the light of my life, Legolas. I need nothing more than your presence.”  
“I’m broken.”  
“Perhaps, but broken things can be mended, can they not?”  
Not this time. Legolas was too tired to argue with Estel, though.   
“You should get some rest. You’re exhausted. I know you’re not sleeping well. Let me give you a potion to help you. I can at least ease that much of your suffering.”  
Legolas was already shaking his head. “No potions!” He had always hated receiving treatment for physical injuries, and he found the idea of having such treatment for a malady of the mind even more distasteful.   
“One thing hasn’t changed. You always were a difficult patient.”  
That much was true. Legolas closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax. Estel didn’t ask anything else of him, for which Legolas was grateful. He let himself drift off in his lover’s arms.   
Legolas’ nightmare was different tonight. It wasn’t just his patrol fighting spiders to protect him. Estel was there too. Legolas tried to fight to protect his lover, but his arms were useless, flopping limply at his side. He watched as a spider ripped Estel’s head off.  
Legolas woke screaming.  
“Legolas! I am here, what is it?” Estel’s arms were suddenly around him. Legolas clamped his mouth shut, realizing that he was making a racket that would bring the guards. He grabbed Estel’s shoulders and pressed his head to the man’s chest. The heartbeat there was rapid with alarm, but that didn’t matter. That the heart was beating reassured Legolas that his dream had been nothing more than that.  
“Nothing, Estel,” he said gruffly, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Just a dream.”  
“A nightmare,” Estel corrected. “Come, lie back down. Let me sing you back to sleep.”  
Legolas was too exhausted to argue. He lay with his head on Estel’s chest, listening to the stabilizing heartbeat.   
Estel started to sing softly. Legolas smiled a little as he recognized one of Elrond’s lullabies. It didn’t put him to sleep, but it did help him relax, rather than lie tensely just waiting for the sun to come up. Estel eventually sang himself to sleep, which made Legolas chuckle to himself.   
He lay there with Estel, listening to the sound of the man’s heart until the sun came up.


End file.
